And Me
by BecauseHeroesNeverDie
Summary: It was not cold beside the blazing house. There was a girl standing in front of it, staring up as the flames melted into the night sky, closer than was safe and far too close for her to be cold. But, she was shivering, rubbing her hands up her bare arms, and crying. -10/3 oneshot- Winry-centric


It was not cold beside the blazing house.

There was a girl standing in front of it, staring up as the flames melted into the night sky, closer than was safe and far too close for her to be cold. But, she was shivering, rubbing her hands up her bare arms, and crying.

The flames were crackling in her ears and she couldn't help but imagine the stacks of books scattered around the house, the squeaking fourth step, the picture of a field of purple flowers hanging up on the bathroom wall. She thought of all the small things that she'd walked past thousands of times. She thought of the corkboard covered in photographs. The one with the clumsy tear that left a man's torso and legs still visible. She thought of that small missing piece, tucked in a storybook that Alphonse had hidden under his clothes in the closet. She tried to think of ways that she could have fixed things, staring out into the dark grass that swayed in the wind to some silent music. She thought of Edward and Alphonse, who'd stood beside her until an hour ago, when Edward had turned and walked away, a quick motion of his head calling Alphonse to his side and away. She thought of everything on fire.

She looked back at the house, a surge of heat warming her face.

It was the only other house on the winding country lane. People could build others and say that there were more but it was the only other one besides hers.

It had been the first image that had burst from the darkness in her mind that had started with that tiny piece of paper in Granny's hand. The world had disappeared in an instant, the cheery autumn wind became cold, and there was only one place in the world where she wanted to be.

And she would get there, even if she had to run. Even if it felt like a mile and her lungs would be burning and she would cough and cough until it brought tears to her eyes. It was the only thing that she felt she could do.

She ran straight out the door, and jumped down the steps, gasping a little as the sharp rocks along the path stabbed into her feet right through her thin cotton socks. She ran as fast as she could for a few yards, already breathing heavily. She slowed down a little, already numb to the pain in her feet, but not quite distanced enough from the burning in her chest.

But the longer she walked, the more she felt as if it was wrong to walk. She stopped walking entirely. She stared at the sun that was setting over the hills, speading patches of red and gold over the browning grass. When she could no longer stare at the sun, she rubbed the tears from her eyes and then turned her head around to look at the other side of the sky. It was a dull, gray-blue that creeped up from the horizon line, from the endless hills and seas of grass, with a moon that was not yet bright hovering just over the only house in the distance. The house rested in the cool land of a night already fallen and it was much better to look at than the day that lay, shot and bleeding out slowly, to her left.

_Shot. _

She tried to imagine what a gun even looked like, she was sure she'd seen a flash of one once. Perhaps she'd seen one for a second, rushed out of sight when an adult heard her enter. But the only things she'd ever seen her father put away when she'd entered were books.

She started to run because it felt too wrong to walk. She ran all the way to the night, running towards the half-lit moon, towards Edward and Alphonse's house.

When she was finally there, she took three deep breaths, closing her eyes. Edward had once said something about three being a perfect number and it seemed like that to her too.

_Mom, dad, and me. _

She opened her eyes and reached for the door and the world as it was started pouring into her, all too fast. It was too hard to look away from the dying day, from the blood that was pouring out of her dearest friends. She had to breathe again. Three times.

There was a burning heat to those breaths and they tasted like the ashes that were raining down on her.

_Edward, Alphonse, and me. _

**_Writer_****_'s Woes: Well, this got me writing and I'm glad. I haven't been posting and writing much over the past year and it's been disappointing me. _****_10/3 is a tradition for me and I had to do it. It didn't feel right. I started around like 10:30 and finished around 11:40ish... typical rough draft quality warning fits this as well. This makes me realize how much I miss Fullmetal Alchemist. It's a fantastic series and I feel like it's been forever since I finished it. I think it changed me as a writer, and I'm glad about that. I hope that I've improved since I started writing for this series. It's been a great journey, and I think that that's true for everyone who's still here, writing fanfiction, even though it's "all over." _**

**_It's always great to be here._**

**_I hope you enjoyed this. _**


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